


Lazy Morning

by Astray



Series: Bones, Skulls, and Kittens [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Because I can, Cat!Wolffe, Fang is not, Fluff, M/M, Paws is a morning person, Wolffe is a cat, and will be tagged from now on:, seriously it's just the two saps being sappy together, they are the worst saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: When Fang wakes up, Paws is already out for his morning run. At least Wolffe understands his plight and stays with him... And as much as Fang would rather wake up with Paws still in bed, that kind of morning is not so bad either.





	Lazy Morning

Fang could not quite believe his luck. Even all these months later, he still could not believe that Paws had stayed. That he had practically moved in with him for all intent and purpose, even if he still had his appartment. It was a heady sensation, and honestly, had someone told him just a year ago that he would find himself in a relationship for more than a few weeks - a relationship that he hoped would last… He would have laughed. And sometimes he did laugh at himself for being a terrible sap - although Zetiva did most of the mockery herself. 

He snuggled Paws’s pillow, shimmying further under the duvet. It was April. Still cold. He was grateful that Paws did not open the blinds when he got up. Paws who was out there running. He ran even in winter, even when Fang himself felt like his nose would fall off, it was so cold. Madman. He peeked at the alarm on Paws’s bedside table. Balanced on the three books and his glasses’ case. Fang flopped back. It was still too early. It was nowhere near 8. But Paws would be back soon. He felt the covers dip behind him - Wolffe was joining him, walking all over him before settling on the covers, against Fang’s stomach. He started to gently knead the fabric, claws hidden from view. Fang got an arm out of the duvet to give him head scritches, immediately earning a thunderous purr. 

Wolffe was a rescue cat. A beautiful, sleek, black cat, with greyish eyes. A cat that ended up staying at the shelter longer than other kittens because he was ‘not cuddly enough’. But again, Fang was not surprised. Black cats were still more likely to be left behind. When Fang saw him at the shelter, him and his siblings were not weaned yet - or barely so. They had been left outside, by assholes who could not be arsed to deal with kittens - had it not been for a local kid who had brought them to the shelter, the poor things would have frozen to death. It pissed Fang off like few things did. 

From November, when Fang went to the shelter the first time, and December, when they brought Wolffe back, all his siblings had been adopted. Wolffe had taken to imitate the pups by sound alone and tried to howl a few times. Fang had gone to the shelter when he could, with Paws as well, to let Wolffe get used to them. Prepared everything for his coming home. And it turned out that the cat tree was used only for scratching post - Wolffe had claimed an Amazon cardboard box that had carried his last order of books. At the shelter, they had wanted to neuter him, and Fang had refused - Wolffe was still too young, and the first trip to the vet convinced him that it was not a good idea. He wanted to make sure Wolffe was comfortable with them before they tried - he did not like the betrayed look his - their - cat had given him that one time. 

One thing they had learned quickly was that Wolffe loved the piano. He would either curl in Fang’s laps, or sit on the top of the piano if there was some sun. He also made it his job to join Fang in bed once Paws left for his run - and he would curl up on Paws whenever he was reading. A far-cry from the skittish, defiant kitten they had seen at first. Fang stroked Wolffe’s back - something new, before that, he would not let anyone touch his spine - and noted that he was filling up. Still thin, but his coat was smoother, and he could not feel his ribs at all. For now, only Fang and Paws could touch him - although he would climb on Zetiva when she visited. The piano, again. She never tried to pet him, and so, Zetiva had become ‘the place to be when he wanted the human warmth without the petting’. 

Fang lost track of time, until he heard the front door open and close. Paws moved around almost silently, but Fang did not need to hear him to know the first stop is the shower. And true enough, he heard the water run not too long after. He was warm here. Did not want to move, even to join him. He stayed put, even when the bedroom door opened. Wolffe did not stir, still purring faintly. Fang did not open his eyes, sighing at the scent of vetiver. It was a smell Fang particularly liked, he thought it suited Paws. Shower gel with that scent was one of the few luxuries Fang indulged in - he liked cedar too, but vetiver was special. He remembered that Zetiva used to wear it. Even if everyone else found it distasteful for a woman to wear it. She was the one who offered them that box for New Year. And the Guerlain cologne neither of them used. But it smelled nice. The bed dipped under Paws’s weight, lips pressing against his neck.

“Couch breakfast?” 

“I’m not letting you leave me. Yes.”

“Waffles.”

“Spoil me rotten… Do I get to thank you later?”

“No classes on a Saturday, so yeah.”

Fang rolled over, mindful of Wolffe, and leaned into Paws. Kissed his neck, his jaw. Maybe breakfast could wait? Paws’s hand on his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. 

“Can I be breakfast instead?” 

Paws laughed against his lips, quietly. Pressed their forehead together. “Dessert is negotiable. No matter how edible you are-” a kiss that left Fang breathless, “food is still important.”

“Paws…” 

“I have blueberries.”

Fang squinted at him in the dim light. “That’s cheating.”

“Maybe. And besides, Wolffe is asleep. You don’t want to disturb him, do you?”

“You’re the devil… Alright.”

“The devil? Will wait for you to worship me.” Paws got back up before Fang could grab him, that ass. “Breakfast first.”

“Movie?”

“Pitch Black? You said you wanted to rewatch it.”

“I love you.”

“Kusmi’s Prince Vladimir?” asked Paws on his way out.

“Love you more now and will worship you.” He had to whispered-called after him, but Paws’s deep laughter still could be heard from the stairs. Fang truly was spoilt rotten. He was not even sure he deserved it, but he was not going to complain. The smell of waffles reached him - and had Wolffe leap from the bed, careening towards the stairs. Whenever it was food time, he would dash to the kitchen. Wolffe never begged for his food, but he learned fast that Paws could not resist the big eyes. Neither could Fang, to be quite honest. Wolffe had adapted very quickly, and at first, the fact that he never vocally begged for food had seemed odd. Until one of Paws’s colleague explained that their cat was doing all he could to make sure he would not be abandoned again. That had resulted in them always making sure Wolffe had dry food - on top of the water and clean litter that were a given - at his disposal. That earned them a very well-behaved kitten who would actually sit on the communication wall’s opening, watching you cook, but never trying to steal. Although Fang would not chance leaving fish or any sort of meat without supervision.

He stretched out, feeling pleasantly sore from sleep and not the dull, grinding pain that had been his lot for the past three days. The day before, Paws had taken the time to unfuck his back, which always felt like a rebirth. Fang wished the cause of the soreness was of a different nature, but Paws had been tired from work. And the only reason why he worked on Fang’s spine was because Fang had shouted in pain when getting up from his chair, his back noping out on him. Fang understood that Paws was tired, and needed to rest. It was frustrating, yes, but he could deal with that. And Paws had been kind enough to let Fang take care of him when he did not feel like moving himself. Spoiled, he really was spoiled by this man, and he had done nothing to warrant such treatment.  

He let another minute pass before he got out of his nest - airing the bed, opening the windows and blinds. The air was still very crisp but he would close the windows a bit later. Fresh air was important to him. He dressed in his favourite pair of of home clothes. Soft, loose fabric. And he did hunt for the slippers a bit - Wolffe tended to push them under the bed, for some reason. Although he never hid slippers as well as he did Fang’s pencils. Pencil disaster cat. 

Downstairs, he found Wolffe with his nose stuck in his dry food bowl, purring, and Paws was making another row of waffles. He tiptoed behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, nuzzling his still damp hair. He loved Paws’s hair. Well, he loved Paws. And it had not been hard to fall for him either. Way too easy. 

“Need a hand?”

“Not that kind of hand just yet. You can bring the teapot and mugs. The table is raised. So you do that, get under the blankets, and I’ll be right there.”

“You got it, handsome.”

“Movie, Fang.”

“Is that whipped cream?” He did not ask for permission, he dipped his finger in the stuff. Homemade. Not to sweet. Damn fluffy. And damning. 

“Movie.”

He groaned. Paws could be really no fun - but well, he just showered, so getting covered in whipped cream would beg for another shower right up. Later. Another time. He got the teapot, the mugs, and went to the coffee table. The tv was on already, the menu waiting for them to launch the movie. He made sure all blankets were accounted for and settled - nestled, really - down. Paws, true to his word, showed up right then with plates ladden with waffles topped with whipped cream and blueberries. He sat next to Fang, drew the table closer to them to avoid a mess, and kissed him on the temple. 

“Good?”

“Perfect.” He kissed Paws back, smiling like a complete idiot. He really was blessed. The feeling remained as they were eating, watching  _ Pitch Black _ , with Wolffe joining them halfway to curl up in Paws’s laps. 

  
  



End file.
